Broken Lullabies

by Nicole Simone

  “How?”

  “By walking away from the convent and trading in her garb for a sparkly skirt and a pair of clear high heels.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  Matthew leveled me with a stare that dared me to argue. “It is that simple if you make it that simple.”

  “What about basic ethics? What about going against everything she has believed for the past whatever number of years she has been part of the religious sect? What about all the people she has to leave behind? What about the risk of venereal diseases?” I could’ve gone on, but Matthew cut me short.

  “This was a terrible analogy to begin with. You know that, right? Because the worst case scenario if you let go of the reins a little bit and lived – really lived -- is to have fun. Your friends and family aren’t going to feel betrayed if you let loose. They would probably encourage it.”

  The last time I’d attended a family dinner came to the surface when my mother’d given me the exact same speech Matthew was giving me. I haven’t seen my parents since under the excuse my schedule was insane. The truth was, though, they always asked about Matthew, and my small white lie had morphed into an elaborate story that deserved an Oscar. In person, they would be able to see through it and I wasn’t ready to admit I’m as pathetic as they view me.

  Unless…

  “Shake up my world then,” I declared. “Show me a life that isn’t boring and mundane.”

  He choked on the French fry he’d popped into his mouth. “What?”

  As the idea grew on me, so did my excitement. “Yea! Like you said, the worst case scenario is that I would have fun.”

  “I did say that,” Matthew grumbled. “Why me though? Don’t you have other friends who could help you?”

  “None of them are rock stars. Living balls to the wall is kind of your job description.”

  “That’s true.”

  An inner struggle played out over his face. Waiting on pins and needles, my heartbeat thrummed. Finally after several seconds of tension, I decided to make it an agreement of sorts to demonstrate to Matthew it was strictly a business arrangement. Nothing more.

  “Do you have a pen?” I asked.

  He freed one from the depths of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. My handwriting scrawled messily across the tissue-thin material of the napkin.

  This agreement is made effective between Matthew Lee and Camille Harper for the period from 4/12/2015 -4/22/2015. The terms are as follows:

  No hanky panky while under contract.

  Matthew leaned across the table and read the first line. “You’re actually serious about this?”

  “I am, and this way, there will be guidelines.”

  His mouth quirked up at the corners. “Like not having sex? I didn’t even know that was on the table.”

  “It’s not,” I fumbled as mortification heated my cheeks. “I wrote it as a precaution.”

  Sliding the napkin to his side, he beckoned for me to give him the pen. He scrawled another guideline and passed the contract back.

  “‘Whatever Matthew says goes,’” I read. “Really? I don’t know.”

  “You have to trust me if this going to work.”

  “You were the one who said I shouldn’t trust you.”

  “And you were the one who conjured up this contract.”

  The idea of submitting my control to a man like Matthew scared me to no end, but we had already dived into the rabbit hole.

  I sighed. “Fine. It stays. Anything else you want to add?”

  “You go first.”

  Tapping the pen against my lip, I thought carefully about what to put. My cautionary side came through and I scrawled, “No activities that can cause bodily harm.”

  Matthew barked out a laugh when he saw what I had written. “How boring.”

  “I would rather not end up at another hospital,” I said as my eyes wandered the depressing cafeteria. “To be frank, I have had enough of them.”

  “How is your foot? I forgot to ask.”

  “Fine. I have a scar but it’s faint.” I veered our conversation back on track. “It’s your turn.”

  “‘Remember to keep an open mind’ is the fourth term.” His eyes sparkled with mirth. “Which is code for ‘You can’t run for the hills when I suggest an activity that pushes your boundaries.’”

  “Like what, for example?”

  “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

  “Awesome,” I mumbled sarcastically. “Unless there is anything you want to add further, we can sign at the bottom.”

  After Matthew added his, with trepidation, I signed the next eleven days over to his whims. I was beginning to believe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.

  Camille was a goddamn sorceress. I stared at my signature as if someone possessed my hand and had written it for me, but nope. The loopy letters were mine.

  “Weak -- you are weak, Matthew,” I muttered to myself.

  “Who you talking to?”

  Luke materialized in front of me holding a cup of coffee and wearing an expression of utter exhaustion. I took it as a good sign he didn’t seem devastated. Whatever happened to Marlene must not have harmed the baby.

  “Nobody.” The napkin got crumpled in my palm. “You good?”

  “As good as a man who just found out he is having twins.”

  My eyes bugged out of my skull. “Twins?!”

  He chuckled at my reaction and nodded. “Yea, twins. I guess Marlene had a kidney infection but the babies are fine.” The smile melted from his face as shock set in. “It’s going to be difficult to get used to the plural of that word.”

  “I’m kind of surprised you guys didn’t know sooner.”

  “Me too, but it happens.”

  “If you want to go tell the guys, they are in the waiting room.”

  Luke anxiously glanced toward the end of the hallway. “Can you give me five minutes? I need a moment of peace before the rowdy congratulations antics kick in.”

  When Sean announced he was getting married, we poured an entire bottle of champagne over his head. I understood why Luke wanted this time to gather himself. Sinking into a chair next to mine, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. My fingers restlessly tapped on my thighs.

  “You aren’t helping my anxiety,” Luke said.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. My stress is through the roof. An adorable kitten wouldn’t help it.”

  “You already make an amazing father. What’s two more?”

  Luke’s eyelids snapped open. “That’s twice the number of diapers to change, twice the number of screams to attend to and twice the number of mouths to feed. On top of running Norma Jean’s and my new record label. I’m going to be stretched thin like phyllo dough and most likely as breakable.”

  Did I miss the memo today was analogy day? Since I had no idea what phyllo was, I bypassed it and went straight to the heart of the matter. “You are worried about your and Marlene’s marriage falling through the cracks.”

  “Basically. How can it not? With three kids, we are asking for a divorce.”

  “My parents had four. Me plus my sisters, and they aren’t divorced.”

  “How come I never knew your parents were still together? Actually come to think of it, you don’t really talk about your childhood.”

  I shrugged. “It was mundane.”

  Guilt stabbed me in the gut with this lie. My childhood was the opposite of typical. It was chaotic, overrun with women, and in the winter, cold because my father didn’t make enough money as a master craftsman to pay for heat. There wasn’t a shortage of love though, hence the reason my parents took it personally when I moved across the country. Especially since my sisters stayed in the same five-block radius. My touring schedule had made it difficult for me to travel home, but without fail, I was there for Christmas and Thanksgiving. My mom would have my head on a platter if I celebrated the holidays without them.

  “You are a very
private person,” he said.

  “I have learned to be. Haven’t you?”

  “Of course. Although if I could rewind time, I would be more private with Marlene and my relationship. The fans camped on our yard almost did her in.” He paused. “And me. Our songs are really annoying when they are sung on repeat.”

  “But damn catchy.”

  “Too catchy. We need to work on that.”

  “There will be nothing to work on once Five Guys is over.”

  I couldn’t believe our time as a band was coming to an end. We understood Luke wanted to be with his family, but we secretly wished he was open to alternate options like less touring and more studio time. He kind of sprung his decision on us without any warning.

  The sadness in his eyes matched my own. “We’ll still be collaborators.”

  “Yea, I guess.”

  “Have you thought about my offer?”

  “About joining your record label?” Off Luke’s nod, I sighed. “Not really. I’ve been kind of preoccupied, but I promise you’ll have an answer soon.”

  “No pressure. I’m going to head into the waiting room to face the firing squad.”

  Luke rose from his chair. We bumped fists and he wearily strode toward the door marked with a placard. Jealousy rolled in my gut. Luke had a beautiful family, an exciting opportunity to build a business from the ground up, and a wife that had given him a second chance. I couldn’t help but think about how little I had in comparison.

  Camille and I had agreed to meet outside the hospital once she was done visiting with Marlene. I tilted my chin upwards and stared at the night sky, twinkling with stars. I had traveled all around the world, but the Pacific Northwest always called me home. In the distant future when I retired the rock n roll lifestyle, Seattle was where I would settle into domestic bliss and raise my children. If my twenty-year-old self caught me thinking about anything remotely close to the white picket fence, he would have slapped me upside the head. Being a nomad without any attachments doesn’t sound as appealing though once you have been at it for five years.

  Camille breezed through the sliding glass doors, her emerald eyes scanning the vicinity. When they landed on mine, a grin broke her cheeks apart. Being the recipient of her smile felt like winning the lottery. Even though I so didn’t deserve it, I cherished the gift she had bestowed upon me.

  “How’s Marlene doing?” I asked her as she crossed the parking lot to where I stood.

  “She’s pissed she didn’t nip the problem in the bud that lead to the kidney infection.”

  “She and Luke need to learn how to relax.”

  She laughed. “Not possible. They thrive off chaos.” Looking around, Camille clapped her hands together. “So where are we off to?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

  “Let me guess. You hate surprises.”

  My heart seized as she looked at me from under her thick lashes. “You make me sound like a party pooper.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “They are so jarring. One minute you’re completely in your own head and the next minute, there are a few of your closest friends, screaming at you.”

  “With good cheer.”

  “Why can’t good cheer be done in inside voices?” She winced. “God, I sound like I’m eighty years old.”

  “A very sexy eighty-year-old.”

  “Don’t tell me you have a thing for older women.”

  I laughed. “Nope. My cut off is thirty-five. Shall we get this show on the road?”

  Wearing black combat boots laced to her shins, the half-mile journey ahead of us shouldn’t be a problem. Unlike most of the women I hung with who liked to balance on two spikes. We wandered eastbound along the vacant city streets.

  “This is my favorite time of day,” she confessed in a hushed whisper. “It’s like you have the entire city to yourself.”

  “Did you grow up here?”

  “Since I was two.”

  “Where did you live before Seattle?”

  “Danbury. Connecticut.”

  My feet came to a stuttering stop as I barked out a laugh, rich in disbelief. “Seriously?”

  “Yea. Have you heard of it?”

  “I lived 30 minutes from there in South Salem.”

  Her eyes glittered with amusement. “What a small world.”

  To think if Camille hadn’t moved, we could’ve met at a football game or the ice cream parlor in Danbury that had rainbow colored sprinkles in bins. Somewhere normal that fostered a relationship without a predetermined end. The idea plunged a knife into my gut and twisted. Fate had a cruel sense of humor. Camille tugged on my arm, encouraging me to keep moving. We did but my steps were slower, more measured as I sunk into a strange sense of melancholy for the parallel universe where Camille and I were high school sweethearts. She would have made the ride to fame a lot less lonely, that was for sure.

  “Do your mom and dad still live there?” she asked.

  “Yea, along with my sisters. None of them felt the need to move. They are comfortable in South Salem. Also, now that they have kids, it’s free daycare. That Leave It to Beaver thing though made me want to spoon my eyeballs out. So as soon as I hit eighteen, I threw my stuff in the back of my beater truck and hit the road. If it weren’t for my mom, I wouldn’t have gotten a full ride to my number one college. She pushed me to strive for greatness.”

  “It sounds as if you have a good support system behind you.”

  “I do. Although my parents don’t exactly approve of my career choice.”

  “But you have been so successful at it.”

  “Money and fame don’t equal success in my parents’ eyes,” I said.

  In the distance, a dock jutted free from the land and hovered above Puget Sound. Moonlight reflected off the blackish blue water. As we drew closer, I saw my connection had pulled through and left us the required equipment we would need tonight. Buckets, fishing poles, and lures.

  Camille’s gaze roamed the scene. You could practically see the gears turning in her head. “We’re fishing?”

  “Close. We’re catching squid.”

  “That’s your idea of living life to the fullest?”

  “What did the contract say at the very bottom?” When she didn’t fill in the blank, I did it for her. “Have an open mind.”

  Blowing out a breath, she nibbled her bottom lip and finally let go of the reins she tightly held. “All right. Are we going to eat them?”

  “Patience, grasshopper. Patience.”

  “I don’t have patience.”

  “You will once the night is over.”

  I went about setting up the supplies while Camille sat on the edge of the dock, her feet dangling off the sides. She looked pensively into the horizon.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” I said.

  After several beats, Camille spoke. “When we met the second time at the coffee shop, I thought you were kind of an ass, and then when you went home with Koral…”

  “I told you we didn’t do anything,” I cut in.

  She waved away my admission and continued. “Basically, you hit all the marks of being a rock star. Highly sexualized and selfish without a caring bone in your body.”

  “There better be a ‘but’ coming.”

  Camille glanced up at me. Her eyes sparkled with humor. “But then you stood by my side when I sliced my foot open, drove me home, and cleaned up the mess in my bedroom. Followed by a confusing kiss and dash. Now here I am, two weeks later, squid fishing with you. To say the least, you keep me on my toes.”

  With women, my attitude toward them was cut and dry. Either we had sex and enjoyed a night together or we didn’t. It wasn’t that simple with Camille though, considering our history. As much as I tried to run, her alluring presence reined me back in. Time and time again. Now we were bound by contract to spend a week and half together where I had to lie to her face and pretend as if I was somebody I wasn’t. Y
ou would think after four years of practice doing exactly that, it would be easy. But when Camille pinned her emerald green eyes on me, I wanted to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness. Busying myself with the fishing poles, Camille cast her attention back on the sound.

  “I dream about living in a small cottage on the beach someday with my desk facing the bay window, my fingers tapping to the rhythm of the crashing waves,” she said.

  “Sounds peaceful.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?”

  With all the supplies set up and secure, I had no choice but to sit down next to Camille. She seemed content, unlike me who had enough restless energy stored up to sprint a half marathon. My fingers drummed on my thigh as the riff I had been working on played in my head. Camille’s hand covered mine. The shock of her touch sent a lightning bolt up my spine. Studying her profile, her eyes remained fixed on an unknown point in the distance. Warmth from her palm seeped through my pant leg and into my bones. Even though I didn’t have what Luke had, in this very moment with a beautiful girl by my side and Puget Sound stretching out before me, it felt like enough. And that scared me to hell.

  I smelled like fish. Tugging my t-shirt from my chest, my nose wrinkled. A faint whiff of briny ocean clung to the cotton material, but it was a small price to pay for the amount of fun I had last night. If I was being truthful, my favorite part wasn’t the fishing itself. It was about hanging with Matthew and chatting at the end of the dock while the moon dangled in the sky above us. The romantic ambience was partly to blame for why my hand had ended on top of his. At first I’d done it to steady his tapping fingers, but then…

  Matthew hadn’t pulled away. He’d done the opposite and tangled our fingers together. My heart had never pounded so hard before. I’d thought it would skip right out of my chest and down the dock. That only happens when I had a crush, which equaled a box of tissues and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s waiting to happen. Matthew and I had an agreement. Eleven days of showing me a world laced with color, and then we would part ways. It would be foolish to get wrapped up in the captivating web that Matthew spun.

  Idiotic.

  Unwise

  And downright harebrained.